


So What?

by pixiedustatsundown



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Hurt Harry, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, kind of at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 22:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19755214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiedustatsundown/pseuds/pixiedustatsundown
Summary: All Draco wanted is to report a crime. He didn't expect Potter to look so broken, didn't expect the urge to help him. But with Potters eyes dull and lifeless - how could Draco possibly walk away?





	So What?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for my wonderful beta April, for reading this and encouraging me to post it.

Draco stares at the parchment. It’s empty, aside from a few lonely words, crossed out, all of them. This shouldn’t be as difficult as it is. He’s writing a _report,_ for Merlin’s sake, there’s no creativity needed or wanted, no words that could be _wrong_ , as long as the events are described comprehensively and truthfully. Simple words, clear words, true words – there is nothing that warrants his stalling. 

“Malfoy? Why aren’t you writing?” Good question, Potter, very good question. If only Draco knew. He doesn’t dignify him with an answer, keeps staring at the blank page, given up on inspiration but it’s better than facing Potter. 

“Look, if you come in here to report a crime, refuse to _tell me what happened_ and won’t fill out the form either - I will have to ask you to leave.” Potter sounds authoritative. It suits him, though Draco never would have expected him to join the Aurors. After the war, after all the death and fighting and destruction, he would have thought Potter had seen enough of it to last a lifetime. Draco certainly has. 

But Potter has always been the Wizarding World’s Saviour, the Golden Boy. Of course he would continue serving it, until it’s consumed all of him. A hero through and through. 

Draco looks up at him, sees how he slumps over the desk, files haphazardly piled up everywhere, an assortment of half empty tea cups on every surface. The most shocking are his eyes. Draco had spent his time at Hogwarts observing and studying Potter, and he had never seen his eyes this lifeless, without joy or anger. But now they’re dull; unfocused and uninterested. 

No, Draco doesn’t believe it, doesn’t fall for Potter’s charade - Potter doesn’t want to do this. Wherever the authoritative voice came from, it was a front. 

“Why are you here, Potter?” He looks perplexed, sitting up slightly and narrowing his eyes at Draco. Draco suppresses a sigh. It’s only logical that Potter should stare at him for his stupid life-choices. At least he is awake now, present. 

“This is my _job_ , Malfoy. I _have_ to be here. You might be unfamiliar with the concept, but people have to _work._ The better question is, why are _you_ here?” Potter is getting disproportionately defensive over a simple question. Yet another sign that _this_ _is_ _not right_. Good, Draco would have been disappointed if it were any different, if this was what Potter wants to do with his life. 

“ _Have to be here_ , do you? I should have thought you _wanted_ to be here - the Great Harry Potter, protecting the world since he was barely one year old.” Potter clenches his jaw but doesn’t rise to the bait. Draco used to be better at this, used to be able to rile Potter up by simply _being_ there. 

“ _What do you want?_ ” Draco smirks at him. The words came out slow and deliberate, controlled to the last syllable. Maybe he hasn’t forgotten how to get to Potter, maybe Potter just worked on his temper. Pity. Potter’s temper is a glorious thing - always ready to indulge Draco, to glare at him and cuss out biting remarks, flaring and sparking with life. Draco used to love having it directed at him, being Potter’s sole focus. 

But a better controlled temper is still a temper - Draco would simply have to try harder, be better. 

“Why are you sequestered down here anyway? I thought you would lead your own team by now - at least. Head Auror in a few years. But here you are, doing the most boring part of being an Auror in a small, dingy office. Hardly befitting for our Saviour.” Potter stands suddenly, chair falling back in its wake, magic rustling through the countless papers, eyes alight with fury. 

_This_ is what Draco wanted - not the brain-dead shell of a man. 

“Maybe I _chose_ to be down here, ever thought of that? Maybe being an Auror is not what I hoped it would be, but I can’t back out and let every one down. Maybe they gave me a command and I messed up the very first mission.” All the exhilarating rage leaves him suddenly, breathing hard, head bowed, leaning heavily on the table. 

It’s devastating, to see Potter like this. This is not what Draco wanted. He wanted _his_ Potter - laughing, defiant, snarky, full of life. 

Draco recognises it from when he happens to look into a mirror, the same haunted look, weary posture, barely still standing. He tries to avoid mirrors, turns away from them and pretends things are fine. 

He can’t do that with Potter, can’t turn away and pretend. Draco can’t leave him like this, lost and suffering. 

“Fancy lunch?” Potter looks up again, suspicion back in full force, but also wide-eyed surprise. 

“What?” 

“Lunch, Potter. A meal, it’s fairly common, usually taken around 12. You look like you need it.” Potter still stares mutely at him, not moving or giving any indication that he even heard him. Draco is getting irritated. He’s trying to _help_ here. 

“What about the crime you wanted to report?” Potter points at the still empty file, innocent and accusing where Draco left it. 

“Forget about that, it wasn’t important.” He doesn’t believe him. Of course he doesn’t, why should he? It still hurts. Potter doesn’t say anything else, looking between Draco and the file. 

“Fine, stay here.” Draco stands up, overthrowing his own chair, because he is petty like that and the sound is loud and very satisfying in the silence. Potter flinches at the noise. That is less satisfying, but Draco is done helping. If Potter is going to mock him for his… admittedly weak attempt - well, Draco has other things to do. Let Potter die all alone in this hole then. 

“No Malfoy, wait!” Draco stops, not turning to face Potter again but waiting for him to continue. “I can’t leave work.” 

At that Draco _does_ turn around. Potter has one hand reached out for him - useless, of course, but Draco can appreciate the intention - looking unsure but visibly steeling himself under Draco’s watchful eyes. 

“Why can’t you?” Potter hesitates for a moment, before defiantly raising his chin. Draco has to suppress a fond smile - Potter has always been stubborn. 

“I could lose my job.” He doesn’t sound concerned in the slightest, like he is stating a fact, not warning against consequences. 

Draco shrugs. “So what?” 

Potter smiles at him. It’s small but sincere and for _Draco_ , of all people, and he absolutely cannot stop himself from smiling back. 

“Yeah, so what?” 

  


**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!  
> If you liked this story you can [reblog it on Tumblr](https://pixiedustatsundown.tumblr.com/post/186189845008/so-what)


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